The Color of Chinese Bellflowers
Chapter one: Ripples on the water
Disclaimer: I do not own Loveless.
A/N: This is an original AU fic. I've tried my best to keep everyone in character.
Burning rays of setting sunlight shined into Ristuka's face. The cloth of his cotton kimono clung to his skin, bonded to it with a sheen of sweat that glazed his skin. Pushing a few obstinate locks of hair out of his face, he hugged his knees. He was squatting on the side of the street, watching a butterfly drink from a flower. Behind him the front door of his okiya sat pushed open, he had a bad habit of not closing doors. The butterfly had all the hot colorings of summer, and its wings flitted gently when one of Ristuka's fingers reached out to poke them.
"What are you doing out here butterfly? It's too hot for you." Ristuka smiled naively, but he was right. It was August of 1922. Even so, it was way too late in summer to be seeing butterflies. Ignoring his question, the butterfly floated off of the flower and onto his slender finger. Ristuka let out a childish laugh that scared it away, and it flew off to another flower bed.
"Ritsuka! What are you doing out here?" the door shook slightly, and Mieko stepped into the doorway. "You need to be dressed. Look at you! Squatting in the street and getting sweaty, go inside." Mieko was young, but still she owned the okiya Ritsuka was in. Her hair still retained all of its obsidian coloring. She was constantly picked at for her short stature, but everyone respected her none the less.
"Hai, Mieko-sama!" Ritsuka dragged his feet inside the door, not bothering to stop and take his shoes off because he hadn't worn any out in the first place. Mieko called after him, "get a maid to scrub your feet!" he frowned. "Haaaai."
Ristuka stood with his arms outstretched, looking like a thin willow tree. A maid pulled the sleeves of a kimono over his first two layers of dress, smoothing out the fabric were it puckered. He observed himself in the mirror, seeing nothing but a dress up doll. The life of a geisha was the one he had been born into. But it was in his nature, the need to be more independent. Because of this, being dressed by other people made him feel pathetic. It was almost like they thought he couldn't dress himself, or that he was so delicate he would break if he tried. Still it was a tradition that could not be broken, so for the sake of keeping it going he accepted it. That and, he knew no matter what he said, Mieko and no one else for that matter would allow him to dress himself.
Only one short visit had been scheduled for him tonight. Unfortunately, that didn't say much for his popularity amongst the many patrons of Gion. Ristuka had no exposure, no promotion. Refusal to perform in plays and never having served any rich men in the places he visited insured that he wasn't well known. Tonight's visit was to a small teahouse nestled in on the same street as his okiya was. Mieko had never been impressed with him, not even since he became a full fledged geisha. Somehow she saw it as a fitting punishment that he wear the cheaper selection of kimono that was there available there in the okiya. Ristuka thought maybe, if she would let him wear the kimono usually reserved for Yamato he could be pretty enough to get more clients. Never the less, it was still a beautiful kimono. It was a deep scarlet red with patterns of summertime flowers snaking a path up and around his legs.
Small and petite socked feet snuck their way into wooden geta. Ritsuka shuffled his way to stand in front of the doorway. A maid sparked a flint over his shoulders, then slid open the door for him.
Mieko stood to the side with her arms folded. "Maybe you could offer to dance some while you're there, and attract more clients. Make sure you do well tonight, Ritsuka." There was a grave tone to her warning.
Ritsuka could have recorded this word, since it was the one he seemed to reply with the most. "Hai."
Stepping out onto the street, he carefully turned and started walking. Keep your back straight, your head high, and walk gracefully. These were points Mieko always made to him, and he tried to do his best. He didn't expect much from other people, other than requests and the occasional compliment on his ensemble. In his life he hadn't received much else anyway. Make sure you do well tonight, Ritsuka. The words echoed back and forth in his mind, and he stepped up to the door of the teahouse.
"Pour us another cup Ristuka! The boys are thirsty!" A rough cloud of laughs erupted, as Ritsuka tried pouring a few cups of sake without spilling it or being bumped in to. This particular teahouse seemed to attract a lot of men who were more interested in getting drunk than doing the verbal tango with a geisha. Of course they would pause momentarily if one of them shown at least an inch of skin. Not as many would glance Ritsuka's way than when a geisha of a paler complexion showed their skin, since Ritsuka was tanned from his love of being outside in the courtyard or in the street. Occasionally he would be taunted for retaining his dark cat ears, which meant he also retained his virginity. It, for a reason unknown to him, made him slightly more popular than the others who had given up their ears. He liked his though, they made him look more interesting, and they set him apart from any of the other run-of-the-mill geisha.
The door to the room slid open, attracting everyone's attention. A tall man, with long ash blonde hair stepped in. He smiled softly, and the men all started laughing again. "Well look who's here, it's Soubi!"
Soubi turned his gaze to that man and nodded. "You seemed so surprised that I'm here."
He crossed the room, kneeling on the floor and sitting at the table next to the man.
"You're such a high roller I didn't think you'd show up in a tiny place like this!" The man looked at Ristuka, "hey you there! What are ya' waitin' for? Pour this man a drink!"
Ritsuka scrambled to a cup and the sake jug, lacking all the grace that was drilled into his head. He gently poured Soubi a cup of sake, smiling up at him childishly. "I apologize for my clumsiness, sir."
Soubi stared at him for a moment. His eyes pierced him so thoroughly that it made Ritsuka uncomfortable, causing him to squirm slightly. Finally he smiled, "It's quite alright, I think it's cute."
Ristuka nodded, "Arigatou." To him, it was just another compliment. The other men had all turned to each other, talking about things Ritsuka was too young to understand. Soubi took slow and small sips at his sake, watching everyone else but seemingly bored with whatever they were talking about. His eyes were nothing but widened slits on his face, but the odd eye color seemed to pierce everything, from their perch behind his thin glasses. The eyes scanned the room, resting on Ritsuka.
"What's your name?"
"Ritsuka, sir."
"Oh you don't have to address me as sir. My name is Soubi, please call me that."
Ritsuka squinted in suspicion, "As you wish," he paused like he was wondering if it was OK to continue, "Soubi."
When he heard his name, he gave a large smile just short of a grin. "It makes me happy when you call me by my name Ritsuka. Tell me, who is the owner of your okiya?"
"My owner's name is Mieko. The okiya is not too far from here, actually it's on the same street. But, why?"
"Simple curiosity. I wonder, is Mieko a nice woman to you?"
"Nice?" the word rolled off of his tongue almost like it was foreign. "Well, she feeds me and gives me a place to live."
"All the things she is obliged to do?"
An obligation. It haunted Ritsuka that all the people around him put up with him simply because they were obliged to. His discomfort shone on his face, and through the way the fiddled with his fingers that rested in his lap.
"Does it bother you, Ristuka?" He reached out and cupped the smaller ones rounded chin. "You don't know what it's like to be treated nicely, do you?" His words stung, and that reflected in Ritsuka's eyes. It seemed like an eternity, but Ritsuka did not answer. He couldn't find the words he wanted, and if he did he couldn't manage to get them out of this throat. Jerking away his face resumed all of its emotionless polite nature. "Another cup for you, Soubi?"
Simply he nodded, and pushed his cup forward.
Ritsuka didn't trust him, he was strange. On top of being strange, this man seemed to get too close for comfort. A patron never asked such intimate questions about how a geisha felt, or their personal life. Soubi hit too close to home for Ritsuka's comfort. Why would he want to know such things anyway? Mieko always told him, 'strange men shouldn't grow close to young ones like yourself who still have their catlike features.'
"Ristuka? I'm sure the table likes the sake too but perhaps you're giving him too much."
"Mm... wha?!" Ristuka snapped out of his deep thought and yanked back the sake jug. The other men were laughing at him. His face blushed a deep fiery red, almost matching his kimono. While his head was in the clouds he had overfilled Soubi's cup and poured a good amount on the table. "G-gomen nassai!" He bowed, and reached for the towel that sat in the floor behind him. Leaning across the table he began wiping it up, in large slow circles. Soubi's large, defined hand reached out and lay delicately on his.
"Such a beautiful boy shouldn't be dirtying his hands with a sake soaked rag. Please, let me do it."
"N-no, you shouldn't..."
"Nonsense!" Soubi's hand slid off of his and grabbed the rag from underneath of it. While he wiped, some of the other men noticed.
"Since when did Soubi care when someone spilled sake?" It was the same man that had talked to him before.
"Now, Ritsu I always like to make the lives of others more pleasant."
Ristuka hadn't looked at the man that apparently knew Soubi. Ritsu, his name was? He didn't notice before but he had almost the same color hair as Soubi. That same ashen blonde. It was cut shorter though, and his face seemed more sinister than Soubi's. Ritsuka froze in mid thought when Ristu's eyes locked with his. A one sided smile rose on the latter's lips, "besides, instead of a soaked rag there are other things he could dirty his hands with." A deep, yet slightly feminine chuckle rumbled in his throat.
Ritsuka had only a slight clue of what he was talking about, and he didn't like it. Soubi's glare dug into Ritsu. The flash in his eyes was the only way you could tell he was angry. "I'm sure this boy doesn't know what you're talking about, so why don't you quit making perverse jokes?"
"Of course." Ristu closed his eyes and faced away from the two.
"I apologize for my acquaintance. He doesn't know how to be a gentleman, it seems." Soubi rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward slightly. He smiled.
Soubi, Soubi is so strange.
"It's OK, I think I understood his joke ..."
"It wasn't a joke, he was actually being rude. I'm sorry. You probably deserve to have nicer patrons than this rowdy bunch of stinking men."
Ristuka was taken aback. "Please, Soubi don't say such strange things. It makes me feel awkward."
"Awkward? It makes you feel awkward to be cared for?" Soubi stopped to laugh softly. "If you don't mind me saying so, young Ritsuka you are too cute."
Oddly, Ritsuka found himself blushing again. That was the second time tonight too. "I don't mind it, I guess."
Ritsuka poured another round of sake for the table full of gruff men. It wasn't normal for him to be the only entertainer in the room, usually there was at least one other. He usually left it up to that other entertainer to do the dancing or participate in polite conversation that really had no meaning. Although, maybe it was because he was at such an undesirable teahouse. The wood in it was all dusty, every surface. Accept that is the table they were all sitting at. Dust had no time to collect there, too many hands were beating on it and too many drinks were sliding around. The paper that completed the door and walls was yellowed slightly with age. Tatami mat covering the floor was musty from missing multiple new years and summertime cleanings. It seemed that no men of real importance came to drink or be entertained here, except for Soubi and his companion Ritsu. Ritsuka observed, that they were clearly the two best looking and well known men in the room. Maybe they were of some importance he wasn't aware of? That wouldn't be hard considering that the rich and famous of Gion weren't Ritsuka's concern. Any other geisha would call him crazy though, he was content with this life of obscurity even though Mieko was not.
A quick glance at the clock mounted to the wall told Ristuka it was almost ten o'clock at night. He stood up gracefully, maintaining his demure image." Gomen nassai, minna-san. I'm afraid I must retire from this teahouse for the night. Thank you very much for having me." Ritsuka bowed, and made his way out of the door and into the hallway. He heard the door re-open behind him, "Ritsuka." Turning, he saw Soubi standing just outside of the door. "You said your okiya is close by, owned by a woman named Mieko correct?" Ritsuka nodded. "Arigatou. Good night, Ritsuka." With those parting words he disappeared inside of the room.
That night, as Ritsuka lay snuggled into his futon he couldn't force that name out of his head.
Please review minna-san! Sorry for any inaccuracies! I'm doing this to the best of my knowledge, and soon I might have fan art up for this. Drawing Ristuka as a geisha would be too pretty to pass up.
PREVIEW FOR CHAPTER TWO - August 31st, 2007
Youji had gained about 6 feet on Natsuo, and ducked around a corner into a smaller walkway that was almost considered an alley. He grabbed Natsuo by the wrist when he flew by, stopping him. "Youji? Why did you stop me, I thought we were racing?"
"Racing gets boring when you're the only one who ever wins." Using the wrist in his grip for leverage, he pushed Natsuo against one of the walls. Their lips brushed together in an innocent, chaste kiss.